Some things better left unknown...

All right, this started off as PWP in my mind. I know it sounds odd, for I\'ve never written one before and I suppose that\'s what led to my inevitable downfall regarding the tale. I had the dark seduction all set up when, I went swimming into detail. The sounds the colors, the movements and worst of all...the emotions. I couldn\'t just tell straightforward, sweaty, animalistic smut, I had to be fanciful about it. Therefore, this isn\'t really PWP to begin with. It\'s more an introduction to my smut, if that makes any sense at all. cheers. holden.
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Some things better left unknown: Part I

\"The happiness of a man
in this life does not consist in
the absence but in the
mastery of his passions.\"
- Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Tick tick tick....

Snape\'s dark eyes surveyed the small pocket watch lying atop in his outstretched palm, the elongated fingers wrapping around it roughly as he placed it back in his robes with a muffled groan. He still had two hours left of this immense torture.

With his long back against the cool bricks of the wall, arms crossed in traditional fashion, his two dark and narrowed eyes surveyed the hallowed halls. He could have taken a stroll, gone to the end of the long hall and back to make it seem as if he was trying to do his duty thoroughly, but tonight he couldn\'t have cared less. He was tired, irritable and just wanted to retire to his quarters.

How he had grown to loathe these duties. Staying up past the eleventh hour at night to patrol the halls. Making sure immature and hormonally driven children stayed out of each other\'s arms on his watch. He knew they feared him the most of all the Professors in that regard, and it was that which gave him the whisper of a smirk across his face before it vanished that moment.

Already he\'d reprimanded two sixth year Ravenclaws behind the statue of the infamous Monda Milly, creator of Veratiserum on the third floor. They\'d been going at it at such a rate and manner that it took three loud coughs from the surly Professor before they\'d broken off. He\'d also caught a fourth year Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor in the rose bushes outside the Great Hall, and two more fifth year Gryffindors trying to sneak into an empty classroom to snog. It had been all too easy to take away the points, see the fear shining in their eyes and order them off to bed. They\'d thank him for it later, even if they\'d never admit it.

He couldn\'t deny that watching the fervent, almost copulating students didn\'t do something to him as he stood then, alone in the hall with his fingers absently drumming againt his upper arm. Long, spindling fingers came in soft waves over the dark fabric, soundlessly strumming his arm as his lips pursed in thought. As if a translucent veil had come down over his dark eyes, they acquired a rather far away look, as if his mind was on another plain of existence. Now, it wasn\'t that Severus Snape was a pervert or anything of the sort, for his mind had merely drifted to that of a sexual nature against his own will. It\'d been too long since his last encounter, since the fall of Voldemort.

Ah yes, who could forget that glorious moment? The brilliant flash of light that had shot into the very core of Voldemort, destroying him before the Wizarding world as the crowds cheered. And who had been the cause? Why, Harry Potter of course. The boy-who-couldn\'t-seem-to-die.

It was a week from graduation. A week until He and those annoying sidekicks of his graduated. He let a passing of air go through his thinned lips before settling into the rigid stance up against the wall. He did so because he knew he blended into the shadows that way, his inky hair and clothing making him almost invisible at night in the castle.

The way he slunk around, soundlessly through these shadows, cloaked in protection he felt almost omnipotent. He saw and heard more than many, and this was largely due to his impressive gift for being unseen. He\'d practiced it enough when a young boy, hiding from his parent’s rows, skulking about in the shadows now as an adult was mere child\'s play.

It wasn\'t even fifteen minutes when he heard the shushed sounds of commotion up ahead. Already he could feel the temperamental feel of a migraine approaching at the knowledge he\'d have to break up yet another amorous couple.

Slowly his lank frame wove in the shadows, coming closer to the edge of the wall, for around the corner lay his prey. With the slinking movement of the creature on the crest he represented, his silent footsteps drew nearer to the muffled noises, unmistakably the sound of scuffling of shoes, the frantic movements of desire until-

\"Oh Ron.\" came a bossy and highly recognizable voice from around the corner. \"We can\'t do this. Especially not now. I don\'t want to...not us.\"

Ah, so it was the Head Girl herself out past curfew? How surprising indeed. Hermione Granger, the infamous stickler to the rules was out cavorting with another, obviously disentangling from her partner, as it would seem.

This did present an odd flourish of thought to pass through Snape\'s mind, for he had always internally deemed the girl to be a bit of a prude. Often he\'d pass her with her nose in a book, or shoulder\'s hunched and eyes scanning a marked paper of hers. She never seemed much to romantic inclination, he\'d never seen her with any young man besides the two fools she was the constant entourage to.

\"Why?\" another recognizable voice had mumbled as Snape stood against the wall in hidden amusement. Spying never did lose its flavor. So, it was Weasley she was out with. That wasn\'t as much as a surprise as Snape would have assumed. They three of them were inseparable, and theoretically it seemed almost unspoken that they would garner some sort of attraction to one another. Why, they\'d dodged death together, it seemed only natural they would become attached at one point or another.

Standing in the shadows with a small smirk on his face, his dark eyes looked into air as he listened, wondering what else he\'d unearth about the annoying pair. Maybe a bit of gossip? Something to hold over their heads until the end of term perhaps?

It wouldn\'t be as fun being cruel to them, as it would Potter, for he hadn\'t a large and solid distaste for them. He disliked them because of association with the reckless Potter, for it was he that influenced them.

\"Just because.\" came her shrill, yet hushed reply. The sounds of shuffling went on, and Snape -about to turn the corner to surprise them with a detention- stopped as the annoying redhead\'s words were suddenly spoken.

\"Because you still have that crush on Snape?\"

The words came at a rush to Snape as he stood, casually leaning against the wall. The moment he realized the nature of the words, he actually felt his face flush in surprised embarrassment. Hermione Granger had a crush on him?

No student ever had a crush on him...and if they did, he never heard about it. The thought that someone would or could have a crush on him was playing much on his ego. Already he felt that first subconscious glimmer of masculine pride that hit him as he heard the news. A student had a crush on him. Not Lupin...him!

If one could have seen the bemused look on Severus\' face then, it would have startled them greatly. It wasn\'t as if he felt the same for the annoying frizball Hermione Granger, he would have felt the same if any student had said it. Well, perhaps save for any from his house. He couldn\'t really trust that lot. But a Gryffindor fancying him of all people...that was interesting.

\"Oh, stop it already Ron...and it\'s Professor Snape.\"

He heard the blush in her voice, the humiliation in her words. It was plain and simply true. He actually felt a large smirk crawl across his face as he comfortably stood against the wall, not wanting to break up this little altercation too quickly. This was just beginning to get interesting.

\"You know its true.\"

There was a slight pause, then a heavy sigh of weighted thought. She was trying to think of the proper response, he gauged. She was giving heavy deliberation about this question, and almost as if caring what her answer may be, Snape\'s breathing momentarily ceased.

\"So what if it is?\" Came the voice in its entire heated and proud manner. The same voice she incessantly used when answering his questions in class, not that he minded so much anymore. By now she\'d learned when to answer and how long her replies should be. If she\'d been in Slytherin she could have been perfect. Would have been the best student and his own. McGonagall wouldn\'t be so high and mighty then, would she?

\"I just think that it’s stupid for you to still have this school g's c's crush on a greasy git like him.\"

\"A git?\" Hermione\'s hardened voice reached out, defending his name as Snape listened on intently. \"Would you call the man who saved your best friend\'s life numerous times a git? Or the man that dedicated his life to an Order that was to take down the most evil force in the wizarding world? You\'d call such a man a git?\"

Snape\'s air left him then, his dark brows almost covering his even darker eyes as he listened in. She was actually sticking up for him, at no gain for herself. If she\'d known she was in earshot of the Professor in the Library or some such occurrence, he would have played it off as simple brown nosing. But she hadn\'t the faintest he was there, tucked away in the shadows and listening to every heart felt word. She was coming to his defense, all on her own accord.

\"Yes.\" Ron answered breezily, putting no thought into his answer, as usual. \"I think he\'s a git. To this day, and until the day I die, I will think of him as a greasy git.\"

\"Enough.\" Came Hermione\'s rapt answer, Snape could hear the venom in her voice. \"Just enough Ron. You\'re just been stubborn and rude now. Professor Snape doesn\'t deserve that.\"

\"Oh come off it.\" Ron\'s voice hissed, his jealousy plain in his tone and voice. \"You think that after two long years of lusting that Snape\'ll fancy you? That he\'ll come down off that high horse of his and declare his undying love for you? His annoying Gryffindor student no less?\"

Snape couldn\'t help but feel suddenly flattered, that a student as bright as Miss Granger could find him attractive. As he well knew, adolescent crushes were the easier to fall in and out of, but he didn\'t care. His ego was already swelling with the knowledge that even seemingly prudish young woman like Hermione Granger harbored some inner longing for him, for two years at that. He suddenly thought of her detached from his prior notions, she was suddenly a young woman who fancied him.

\"Just stop it.\" Hermione replied somberly. Severus could hear the anguish in her voice. \"I\'m well aware that Professor Snape could never fancy me. Not only is he my Professor, but he\'s also quite adamant in his distaste for me.\"

\"Then why bother?\" Ron\'s boorish reply came roughly; Snape could hear the anger in his dark voice. \"Why bother even thinking about him all the time?\"

\"I don\'t know.\" Hermione said delicately, her words soft yet powerful. She was already tabulating the conversation, trying to include her facts and emotions plainly but finding it difficult. \"I just do. I think he\'s brilliant and funny-\"

\"Funny?\" Ron asked incredulous, Snape could almost see the look of utter horror across that freckle-laden face. He sneered at the surprised nature of the Weasley boy, doubting the subtle humor that obviously only Miss Granger caught on to. No wonder, she was the only clever one in the bunch. Hell, she was one of the only students in the graduating class that had any real promise.

\"Yes.\" Hermione said dryly, \"I think his sarcasm is funny. Charming even. It\'s subtle, and sometimes it\'s rude I know. But-\"

\"But he\'s so cruel to us! You know that! Don\'t you remember when he mfun fun of your teeth? You were heartbroken over that for ages.\"

Ah yes, the teeth. Snape held in a small smirk at that nostalgic reminder. Too well he remembered the look of utter anguish that crossed her face that day in the hall, her teeth down past her chin as he hissed; \'I see no difference.\' He had been in a foul mood that day, and seeing her there in all her annoying candor had felt the need to put her in her place. Too long she had prided herself on knowing everything, being a pain in his classes, and then in that glorious moment she was shot down. She didn\'t know how to fix that one.

But, heartbroken? Over that little jab? Surely not. He\'d believed women like Hermione Granger to be made of tougher stuff than that. Why, she\'d taken all the others in stride. The mocking of her and Potter in that newspaper article...everything. Had that one inconsequential moment made such a mark on her?

\"I wasn\'t heartbroken.\" came the soft reply as Snape listened intently, a strange and foreign feeling passing over him. He would later deem it was eetieeting moment of regret. He then heard faint shuffling and sliding, and he assumed they were now sitting on the floor of the hall. \"I wasn\'t heartbroken.\" she repeated, wanting to believe it herself, it would seem.

\"Right.\"

There was a pregnant pause, an awkward moment in which Snape had wanted to strike in. But it seemed the wrong time, as if he had passed his moment to barge in and scare them. His heart leapt painfully; as if he was anxious that the two of them would rush around the corner, find him standing there. A stupid notion, for they were engrossed in themselves as most teenagers were and if they did catch him spying upon them, he\'d simply take away points before they had a chance to question him.

\"You think he\'ll ever want you the way I do?\" Ron\'s voice finally came in, grating Snape\'s nerves as he heard it. He didn\'t know why but he was furious at him for badgering Granger like this. She\'d made her intentions clear and she was obviously embarrassed enough. Why did he feel the compulsion to keep harping on her?

\"No.\" her voice sounded so very small then and Snape silently shook his head at her sudden submissive nature. Angry that she was ashamed in the eyes of that Weasley. \"I don\'t think he\'ll ever want me Ron, but it wouldn\'t matter if he did. I don\'t care for you like that.\"

Snape mentally nodded, internally congratulating the girl for finally coming out and saying it to the annoying bugger. He deemed it strange a moment, to be rooting for such an inconsequential battle. But he assumed the monotony of his current job and the heavy feel to his lids inexorably pointed to fatigue. Also, it would seem he was part of this whole mess, for he was the object of Miss Granger\'s mislead affection.

\"Fine then.\" came Ron\'s curt and obviously furious voice. Snape\'s imagined he\'d be as obnoxiously red in the face as his hair was at that moment. What a temper. \"You want Snape so badly? You can have him. I\'m sick of playing your ruddy games.\"

\"I\'m not playing games.\" came the dominant tone, as Hermione tried to steady her voice. \"I\'m merely informing you that I don\'t wish to pursue a romantic relationship with you. I enjoy being you friend Ron. I don\'t see what this has to do with-\"

\"Mister Weasley. Miss Granger.\"

Snape said smoothly, his eyes glancing over the two darkened figures in the lone hall. He\'d glided out at the precise moment he\'d know they were off guard, interrupting as if he hadn\'t been listening for the better part of five minutes. His tall frame towered over Hermione, and only slightly over the stubborn Weasley. Snape titled his head slightly, gazing at Hermione a moment longer than she would have expected. Quickly his eyes jerked to Ron who stood shakily, trying to appear nonchalant.

\"Out past curfew I see.\"

\"Yes Professor, it was my fault.\" came Hermione\'s immediate response as she stood, looking to him with such an imploring look in her dark eyes. How very expected that it would be she to take the blame. How expected that she would be the selfless party in this entire mess. He looked to her inscrutably, his dark eyes watching as she began to speak once more, and as usual.

\"You see-\"

He held up a hand to signal she cease her rambling immediately, and like the respectful student she was, she did the moment he did so. Her berry pink lips fell shut and she nibbled her lower lip in nervous habit. He off handedly noticed she did this quite often when perturbed.

\"Mister Weasley.\" Snape whispered darkly, his voice sending the fine hairs on Hermione\'s arm to stand on end. \"You are dismissed. And twenty points from Gryffindor for your disobedience.\"

\"But,\" Ron came stepping forward slightly, shooting a worried look at Hermione out of the corner of his eyes. But it was too late now, for Snape had made his decision. \"I-\"

\"Leave now for your house Mister Weasley,\" Came the warning force of Snape\'s words as he drew nearer to them, or more pointedly, to Hermione. \"Or I\'ll make it fifty.\"

Snape viewed as Hermione turned her head from him, looking back to her friend with desperation on her face. He saw the way Weasley\'s attention was drawn to her, and he assumed she was whispering instructions in her usual, bossy way. Only now did he find such an occurrence surprisingly endearing.

Ron looked at her with regret in his light eyes before giving Snape a surreptitious glare. With a heavy heart and clenched fists the temperamental red head left Hermione\'s side, back to Gryffindor tower to see his mates and inevitable complain about Snape\'s harshness.

Now it was just the two of them in the hall, and for once it felt just as that. They were just themselves there, no disturbances, nothing but the growing tension between them both. It was silence then, and silence is an text easy to misread.

He detected the way her eyes were slowly weaving up his body. Slowly they started at his boots, unwavering as she shifted from foot to foot, inspecting up his robes until they landed on his hands crossed in front of his chest, the very hands she had seen for seven years of her life and never thinking of them as less than extraordinary.

She viewed the slim and graceful appearing fingers. Each elongated tip, the nails cut respectably and impeccably clean, their pale half moon crescent at the top suddenly more intriguing than the rest of his digit. Strange to think such a small, insignificant piece of a person could go overlooked for so long in seven long years and yet, be so crucial.

When the hypnotizing spell of watching his unmoving hands had run its course, her searching gaze then reached his broad shoulders. He saw the pulse in her neck speeding up a bit at this point, almost covered by her mass of dark and unruly hair. Not being one of much vanity when it came to appearances in such a department, it did little to deter him.

Slowly her eyes zigzagged around his chest, waiting for him to speak. When his voice did not reach her ears she moved to his long, pale throat, it\'s sides meeting with long dark tresses that stopped a few inches above his collar. His face, throat and hands were the only exposed flesh, and in turn fascinating to behold in Hermione\'s opinion.

Then, in a burst of inner tenacity her eyes swallowed his face, his long pale and exquisitely carved face. The cheekbones that made his face appear so regal, the long and aquiline nose he was so often teased about behind closed doors. She didn\'t think it clunky and large, more a facial feature that defined him as himself. To Hermione, if they were to take away or skew one bit of Professor Snape\'s face, he would no longer hold that bizarre enchantment, that dark pull. How she itched to stroke just one blanched cheek, if only for a moment just to feel its texture. She\'d often heard the boys call his complexion that of a greasy nature, but standing there and examining he appeared in her mind to have a normal appearance in skin.

Then her favorite part of the journey began, in almost soft tiptoes of trepidation up his long nose, to the dark and pulling orbs surrounded in dark eyelashes. The beckoned her, begging to be explored again and again. She knew Snape couldn\'t have black eyes. If anything it was that his pupils were so enlarged that they took up most of his eyes, leaving only a small rim of dark chocolate around the dark pupils to give minimal pigment. Rapidly, her own dark eyes darted from one to the other and then to the floor. Then they would make their skyward journey once more, darting to peer into his eyes before worriedly falling back down the long slope of his nose to rest on his thinned lips. Lips that formed the words she herself mimicked, the sneer that he had so regularly done it seemed his trademark expression in her eyes.

But it wasn\'t his appearance that called to her, for it was what lay behind those dark eyes of his that captured her attention, since her first day in his classroom. The knowledge in his words, the way every sentence he spoke was a finely spun web of decadent words and speech pauses. The way he could create poetry in his words, creating subtle yet scintillating textures in his phrase for he knew more than she could imagine. The gripping power he had over his pupils not only in force, but also in unseen awe and often, respect. How she at an impassioned age was so ardent and serious in the pursuit of finding such knowledge and brilliance herself. Continuous studying, she\'d told herself, that would lead to such. Discipline and desire for the knowledge she sought out, that would be her sustenance.

But Professor Snape, in all his enclosed and lone ambition worked only for himself. For it was only he that he labored for, worked for and cared for. But he kept all of this bottled up to himself. Emotions, knowledge, and whatever else he may have submerged in the depths of that soul was his and his alone.

His left brow rose increasingly high, almost seeming to touch the start of his hair line as his dark gaze bore down on her. He saw the nervous twitch of the muscles near her eyes a moment, the slight blinking accompanying such and the dark eyes he\'d never regarded as such untils mos moment. If asked what color her eyes were, at any moment before now, he would have given an offhanded and irritable, \'blue?\' for he hadn\'t inspected her like this before, with such attention to detail. She had been a face in a daily crowd, only more vocal that some and in his irritable and hurried opinion, bothersome.

\"Miss Granger.\" came the velvety flow of his voice finally, as he saw the desire that licked around the pupil of her dark brown eyes. It was almost breathtaking the way her eyes softened, coming to meet his with such ferocity, which was quite a change from their timid force moments before. \"If you were any other student, I\'d merely take points. But as Head Girl I expected much more.\"

He saw the small quake then in her form, the hopeful glint in her eyes gone and now replaced with foreboding at what was to come next. He\'d never given her a detention before. Surely he\'d thought about it, even considered giving her one just to take her down a notch. But knowing her, she would have found some way to weasel her way out of it.

Or perhaps -and this was his hidden, true reason- he hadn\'t given her a detention for he knew the inevitable spark of knowledge in her eyes would dim. That all her question answering and seeking of information would end worried that she\'d done something to vex him. Slowly her hand would cease to rise, her mind would start to slug and inevitably she\'d give up trying altogether. And it would be on his shoulders.

\"I apologize sir.\" came her soft voice, not its usual domineering timbre. This was a tone she most always used with him. Her demure, respectful facade for her cruel and unfeeling teacher. He wondered when she had broken past the illusion of fear for him and moved into such heedless lust. This didn\'t seem an attribute of Granger, for she was a thinker more than anything. It seemed to him if she wanted something bad enough, she\'d set her mind to get it. Evidently in her mind, this could never be the case.

\"I believe a punishment is in order. A detention of sorts.\" came the gentler yet efficient tones in his liquid voice, that surprised even Hermione. A gentle gulping noise engulfed her as she swallowed thickly in nervous anticipation. She\'d never had a detention before. Her dark eyes flickered up to his in interest, only to view as -on one well placed heel- he swiveled around, not bothering to tell her to follow, for he knew she automatically would. A whisper of a trace of a smile appeared on his lips as he heard her soft and somber answer, not even grasping at what lay ahead of her and her seemingly detached Professor of Potions.

\"Yes sir.\"

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There will be another chapter I believe. In which the lemons, cherries, watermelons etc…will commence. Thanks loads and cheers. holden.

\"Love is the answer - but while you\'re waiting for the answer, sex raises some pretty interesting questions.\" -Woody Allen.